


Love; Present Tense

by Shamelessly_Radiant



Series: Original Poetry [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: About missing someone, And moving forward, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Poetry, Step by step - Freeform, holding on and letting go, original - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-10
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-10-17 06:00:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10587900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shamelessly_Radiant/pseuds/Shamelessly_Radiant
Summary: Love (noun): a strong feeling of affection. (verb): To feel a deep feeling of affection.Loved: To have felt a deep feeling of affection- but why do we speak of our death in past tense? Why do we say 'loved' when someone dies, as if we suddenly stopped loving them because they are gone, as if the tears, the burning lungs, the aching heart are not a product of knowing our love is still there, still strong, but has no direction but to lash out and tear you apart from the inside out? A poem.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For my grandfather.

And so it goes-

I do not _loved_ you

Yes you are gone

Unreachable

My fingers reach out and touch only air

Not even a shadow left behind

 

(here’s what you left behind:

Trees you planted in the earth with your own hands, nails lined with mud

A swing you made and I still sit on occasionally, creaking as it bends to my weight

Wooden toys you made for us,

Pans you fixed

This dull ache in my chest)

 

How do I have to do this without you?

 

Every orbit the earth makes feels like physical distance put between us

As if

Every second

Takes me an inch farther away from you

 

These days, I need to look at your picture to remember your face

And your voice gets quieter and quieter in my memories,

Loses its cadence and music

Until it’s just like mine

 

And these days

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to

(or yes it does, but it’s a different pain, much less poignant, every bit the same in presence)

 

You talked, and you walked, and you loved

But I?

I talk, and I walk, and I love

I love

 

I do not _loved_ you

Loved- as if everything is in the past

And yes, I suppose some of it is

 

But I reach out my fingers and I touch air

If I close my eyes, or if I dream with them open

I see your spectre,

Your hands in the earth

Or on wood

Or caressing a cat

Or making one of your jokes

 

I see you still

I remember

You live on in my memories

In my heart

 

That beating mess of blood and jumbled cords

Skips a beat

Misses a piece

When I think of you

How is that _loved?_

I do not _loved_ you

I do

And I love, still

And I will always love you

As I know you always loved me


End file.
